“You move among them like a ghost,” he says, his forehead bowing against hers, “because you are not one of them. You cannot live like them. You cannot love like them. You cannot belong with them.” His mouth hovers over her own, his voice dropping to nothing but a breeze. “You belong to me.” There is a sound like thunder in the back of his throat. “With me.” And when she looks up into his eyes, she sees a new shade of green, and knows exactly what it is. The color of a man off-balance. His chest rises and falls as if it were a human thing. Here is a place to put the knife. “I would rather be a
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